


still i'm searching (for something)

by periwinkler



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:03:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28865241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/periwinkler/pseuds/periwinkler
Summary: — He wouldn’t pretend - he was aware this was exactly what the others had wanted to prevent, exactly what he’d promised them he wouldn’t do. He’d thought, then, that it would be a matter of days, perhaps a week. It made sense, he knew, that they should try to figure out what had happened before flying right into the den of the monster. It made sense, two weeks ago. Now, the tension in his chest rose with every empty skate park, every deserted art museum in which he echoed alone.When the boys hadn't crossed over, Alex thought he'd have all the time in the world to work things out with Willie, now that they were one step closer to freeing him too. But after two weeks of searching for him and coming up empty-handed, he was becoming increasingly aware that sitting and waiting and planning and hoping wasn't enough. One night, he takes up a notepad, and prepares to leave.
Relationships: Alex Mercer & Julie Molina & Luke Patterson & Reggie Peters, Alex Mercer/Willie (Julie and The Phantoms)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 60





	still i'm searching (for something)

**Author's Note:**

> hiii, so this is my first time trying to post something, and I'm not sure... what it is? I started writing it sort of late at night and it just happened, so I'm not sure what'll come out of it, but... we'll see.
> 
> (lyrics from breathe again by sara bareilles)
> 
> edit: I've just added another bit in, the plan is to make this a long one-shot :)

That night, Alex sat in Julie’s empty living room, having finally a moment to be alone with his thoughts. There was an uncharacteristic stillness in the air, broken only by the anxious tapping of his pen on the tip of the notepad, the still blank paper illuminated solely by the dim moonlight that filtered in through the curtains. It was a lonely scene, and a cold one, as the drummer found himself face to face with the decision he’d make, knowing all that could come out of it, knowing what he could find, yet hopelessly tied down to his chair, forced by his own hand to somehow write it all down. He owed them that much, at least.

And so, he did, the pen in his hand looping through the letters automatically. ‘I had to go’, it began, shortly. He wouldn’t pretend - he was aware this was exactly what the others had wanted to prevent, exactly what he’d promised them he wouldn’t do. He’d thought, then, that it would be a matter of days, perhaps a week. It made sense, he knew, that they should try to figure out what had happened before flying right into the den of the monster. It made sense, two weeks ago. Now, the tension in his chest rose with every empty skate park, every deserted art museum in which he echoed alone. The pen was left hovering as he considered his next words. He had to go. Why?

_Because I care about him an irrational amount. Because he’d do - he’s done - the same for me. Because I’ve found a safety and a balance with him that I never expected to come across in the whirlwind the past few months have been. Because we’d just gotten started. Because he already means too much for me to let him go._

‘He means a lot to me’, he wrote carefully. It was all he needed for them to understand. He glanced at the kitchen clock in the distance, running the scenarios in his head. ‘If all goes well, I’ll be back by morning’, he decided, and it seemed fair. Any later than that and his chances of evading Caleb would stoop low, with the club at its slowest hour, and if it took him that long to find Willie regardless, chances were he wasn’t at the club at all. The thought of it tightened around his chest, digging in with the painful thorns he’d built himself. He knew Caleb could have destroyed Willie’s soul days ago and he would have had no idea, and even if he’d only stamped him, two whole weeks was a dangerous amount of time, and Alex knew how abruptly the jolts could have weakened him. Imprisonment, at that moment, seemed like a happy alternative.

He did have a plan, albeit a basic one. But he knew he couldn’t ignore the risks, and he wanted the others to know he knew what he was getting himself into, even if they couldn’t understand why he’d done it. Even if he never came back to be able to tell them. ‘If not…’ he continued, his grip on the pen losing its steadiness. ‘I’m sorry. I had to do this, but I couldn’t put you all in danger again. I love you guys.’

He sat there a moment more, staring down at the brief words he’d been agonising over. Then, abruptly, he stood up, poofing towards the garage. The scene was as he’d left it - Luke and Reggie sprawled all over the couch, in the closest state to sleep a ghost could be, and for a moment, Alex let himself just stand there. He glanced at Luke’s stupid open-mouthed sleeping posture and remembered second grade, when his second front tooth had gone wobbly, and he’d been so excited to have a huge gap next to the first that he’d gone to the bathroom and pulled it out prematurely himself, then after five agonising minutes flashed Alex with a gap-toothed, bloodstained grin. The blood hadn’t stopped for a while, but he’d still stuck fries in the holes at lunch, which Alex had thought was gross. He’d told him then it would make his teeth go crooked, as his mom had incessantly taught him, but looking at his bandmate now, he couldn’t say she’d been right.

Then there was Reggie - his leg was obnoxiously thrown over Luke’s chest, and he was holding a half-fallen pillow to his cheek. In that moment, Alex was taken back to his 12 year-old self, shorter and with a near bowl cut, if not for the sides cropped tighter, not straight enough. They’d been on their first big school trip, all gotten together in Billy Evans’ hotel room after hours to play some party games. As soon as they’d heard footsteps in the hallway, they’d all scrammed, some stuffing themselves in the closet, others in the tiny bathroom, and Alex, Luke, and Reggie had bolted towards the bed, barely finding space for the three of them under it.

That time, it had been Alex and not Luke who had taken a Reggie foot to the face. They could hear Billy opening the door, his roommate and the only other person actually allowed to be in there standing right beside him as he was scolded for the noise. As they attempted to convince Mr. Hoger there was nobody else there, a sickening crunch had rung out in the quiet room, and Alex knew they were screwed as soon as he locked eyes with a panicked Reggie, cursed cookie still in hand. The teacher had stalked over to them and looked under, locking eyes directly with the nervous boy, and all Reggie had been able to do in that moment was offer him his half chewed on cookie. Needless to say, they were dragged out of there with a scheduled detention, but at least the rest of the illegal party guests had been saved.

They’d both been right there, through the happy and the heavy times. When you were a ghost, after all, dead and forgotten, it was good to have a portable home. One you could take with you past the threshold. He knew not every ghost had that; he’d seen firsthand the things a soul would risk to feel like they belonged somewhere. But if he could give it, if he could give that to someone else, he would. And Willie was worth it. Alex wanted to make him know, for certain, that to someone, he was worth it.

He put the note gently down on the table next to the couch, let himself linger for a moment, then turned away, poofing outside the garden. Julie’s window as he looked up was dark, the girl likely having gone to sleep a while ago. Alex remembered the second week they’d been undead, and he’d been pacing around at an ungodly hour because he couldn’t stop thinking. He’d left the garage so as to not bother the rest of the guys, and hadn’t expected the soft footsteps that sounded down the stairs, as Julie came to find him in the living room. He’d been hesitant to confide in her at first, but she’d turned out to be wiser on all of it than he’d thought, soft and patient even when Alex himself knew he wasn’t making much sense at all. She’d become incredibly important to him, too, and he really did feel proud knowing how far she’d come, and how her talent would only flourish further. He smiled up at the moon’s reflection on the glass, and hoped it wouldn’t be the last time.

Finally moving away, he walked the rest of the path out of the garden, letting his fingers brush over the flowers, the gate, until he was outside. Casting his mind out towards the old hotel, he pictured inn it what he was searching for, and hoped perhaps that would make it true. He felt the pull, and disappeared, leaving nothing but thirty words in his wake.

⥈

If he’d been right in picturing a ledge behind the entrance, he’d been wrong in positioning himself behind it, and as he reappeared inside the hallway to the Hollywood Ghost Club, he came face to face, pretty much literally face to face, with the man guarding the doors. Great start. He froze, his body tensing automatically until he began to back off slowly. The guard stood rigid, unwavering, and for a moment Alex felt like he was in one of those scenes in an old Western, where the face-off was all about timing. He half-expected to see a roll of tumbleweed at that point, because after fifteen seconds, the guard hadn’t struck, hadn’t moved to alert anyone of his presence, hadn’t—

 _Oh._ He moved to the side, a few tentative steps, but the guard’s eyes didn’t follow him. In fact, he was fairly sure the only reason they’d been on him at all was because he’d literally poofed in front of his face. The guard sneezed, still taking no notice of Alex, and that was all he needed to get moving again.

“Okay. Lifer, Alex. Those exist,” he mumbled to himself as he went past the man, starting to feel the embarrassment of having what he had taken to calling a ‘Reggie moment’ of his own. It made sense, though, now that he thought of it, why the guard would be a lifer and not a ghost. Most ghosts were there on invitation, and could really do no harm to the club - besides, Caleb had a pretty good way of controlling them - but the lifers were all sworn to secrecy, and any curious teenager, wandering conspiracist, or really anyone that accidentally got involved could potentially make some things very difficult to explain away. A ghost guard may have been able to monitor any unwanted guests, covertly too, but never physically stop them from entering. 

Still, he thought, as he made it through the hallway, head tilted to the side for any signs of trouble, he’d have expected… more. More than one guard, for sure, maybe a small, watchful welcoming committee. Even the man in the white suit, the club employee who had shown them to their seats when they’d first been there… But then again, Alex was far from a guest, and before, well, Caleb had at least been expecting him and the group. He let his hopes rise a little, thinking that maybe they really were tight on staff tonight, that Alex had timed this better than even he had expected. So he moved forward, keeping his head low, ducking behind the edge of the balcony, as he peeked down onto the busy venue. 

There was no sign of Caleb, not chatting up the guests, and not on the deserted stage. His eyes darted around for something else - for a tye-dye shirt, or a tailcoat hanging over black shorts, or simply the sight of long, dark brown hair, loosely held together in a bun or not at all - but there was no sign of Willie. Not near the stage, not sitting at one of the tables, not standing around or dancing around or doing anything at all in sight. No matter how long Alex spent looking over the crowd, one edge to the other, trying to find a spark of recognition in the midst of sparkly wine glasses and extravagant outfits, he just… wasn’t there. He leaned back for a moment, letting his head slump forward between his shoulders. Even as the unease started to grow in his chest, he forced himself to focus, to think, to keep his cool and persevere until he got what he was looking for, be that Willie or a much less wanted answer.

He looked up again through the blond strands that had now fallen over his face. If Caleb was missing - and, looking around again, he found that so were most of the other performers - it could simply mean that the stage was to be filled sooner than later, which was something that Alex had initially tried to predict in his strategy, line it up so he would have a chance to evade the magician, distracted in his dance. If Willie wasn’t around either, well… chances were he’d be backstage, too. So, making sure the coast was clear, he made a turn down the stairs and blended into the crowd. He weaved his way through laughing groups of unseeing lifers, making his way carefully still so as to avoid any gatherings of less obvious ghosts. He could see the entrance to the left of the stage, could hear the movement backstage, catch the occasional flash of bright fabric that poked through the glittery fringe curtains. Did that mean the performers were soon to make an entrance? 

Before he could take another step, a loud voice - not Caleb’s - rang out to announce the show commencing. From both sides, Alex watched as musicians poured in, taking their seats. His eyes darted from one side of the stage to the other, knowing that if Caleb made his appearance now, he might be too close to the stage to go unnoticed. He’d been backstage - he’d know how to poof there accurately, but in order to do so, he’d have to time it right, and fast. It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, but the length of the announcer's pause seemed like an eternity to Alex, until he finally heard the words he needed, eyes trained on the spot at the top where he knew Caleb would appear. He braced himself, waited for the beginning of the white wisp to form, then poofed, out of sight, into the backstage. 

He straightened up, taking in the dark room, the posters on the wall, and the emptiness that surrounded him. Pursing his lips, he turned his attention back to the main stage and took a step forward, carefully peeking through the curtains, scanning the dancers who surrounded Caleb, the musicians, anything— 

Until he felt a hand on his shoulder, and jumped, whirling around so fast his jacket ruffled the strings of glitter behind him. The hand withdrew, and as he looked up at who it belonged to, he was met with a somewhat familiar face, of tan skin, a strong nose and eyebrows, and closely shaved hair. He was smiling faintly, but the way he glanced past Alex for a moment suggested apprehension. There was a hallway behind him, lit to reveal dark walls and a brick red carpet, and Alex guessed his footsteps must have been muffled by the music. 

Alex swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “Dante. Isn’t it?” He asked, with a nervous chuckle. He remembered him as one of the employees he’d danced with, the first time they’d come to the club. He felt caught, knew that he should probably be having some sort of fight-or-flight response, but the man seemed almost... too serene. He made no move past Alex, and no move towards him, either, instead nodding his head as a reply, and taking a few steps back. Alex was confused, until Dante gestured for him to follow, and Alex took a step, but stopped, hesitant. Dante, still looking at him, stopped.

“I know why you’re here,” he told him, just loud enough to be heard over the music. “Come.”

Alex stared at him for a moment, wondering if he did know, and hope started to rise again in his chest, but so did doubt. He glanced over his shoulder one more time, at Caleb, at the dancers, at the audience, a full house, but which might as well have been empty to him. Turning back to Dante, he nodded, and followed him into the hallway he’d come from. 

There were doors lining the walls, all the way up to the obscured junction up ahead. The black and silver accents reminded Alex of a movie theatre, except it was held in an expensive hotel, which made sense, because they were technically in one. Every door they passed had his heart rate rising a little, just to see where Dante would make a turn, which door was one step away from finding Willie. But they kept going, Dante’s gaze was locked forward, and Alex had just started to feel uneasy when they reached the junction, and stopped. On one side, there was another, shorter hallway, with a double door towards the end of it. But on the other side was a simpler one, one that looked like it belonged to a storage room, but as Alex looked closer, there was an icon on its left side indicating stairs. Dante reached behind him before he could ask any questions, opening the door with the click of a key and a smooth push, and it creaked slightly as it slid open. 

“He’s…” Alex started, pointing behind him, and Dante nodded. He turned back to the door, through which he could now see a dark staircase, framed by brick walls that were lined with images. He took a step forward, about to go inside, but hesitated, turning back to his unexpected helper. “But... Why are you—”

Where Dante had been, he was met with nothing. “...helping me,” he finished, with a sigh. He must have poofed away as soon as the job was done. 

Turning back to the door, he took a deep breath. He couldn’t hear anything, couldn’t see much either in the dark, and knew very well it could all be a trap. Dante had had no reason to help him, much less right under Caleb’s nose... But part of him just didn’t care - not anymore, when this could really be the way to him, the way to find Willie, after weeks with no sign of him. He’d taken the risk already - all that was left to do was move forward. 

So he did, down the black stairs, one step at a time. He’d only taken a few steps when he heard a small sound, a breath, like a gasp, like someone was down there, like someone had taken notice of him. And then he rushed to get down there, two at a time, into the darkness of the room, until he could make out a figure, head low, curled against some boxes, illuminated only by a dim, cold blue light. Heart pounding, Alex reached for the light switch, and the stairs were lit in warmth behind him, and he could finally see.

“Willie,” he breathed, as the figure lifted his head. At first, all Alex saw in his features was a worn-out fear, a painful exhaustion, until it smoothed out, lit up in recognition, and a certain disbelief.

“...Alex?” he spoke, and his voice came out just a little too frail, and his arms loosened from where they’d been wrapped around his knees, at the same time as Alex moved towards him, without having to think, pulling him closer and holding him there, tight. He felt Willie’s arms around him not a moment later, his breath against his neck the only sound in the room, and finally allowed himself to breathe, too, through the knot in his throat, through the ache in his chest, because God, at least he was there. He was there.

They pulled back, but Willie’s hands stayed on the side of Alex’s arms, and his eyes darted all over him as if he didn’t know where to look, as if he couldn’t believe he was real. “How… are you here?” He asked, and there was relief in his voice, in his red-rimmed eyes, but apprehension, too, in the tense lines of his mouth, in the frown that crowned his brow. Alex only wished he could smooth it all away.

Instead, he gave him a soft smile, shrugging. “Turns out the Orpheum wasn’t our unfinished business. We were almost gone, I think, but… Julie saved us. Our stamps are gone,” he said, and for the first time a small smile made its way onto Willie’s face as he breathed out a small ‘oh’. Alex chuckled. “Yeah, I know. We… really have no idea how. But that’s not important now,” he continued, fixing him with a more serious look. “I came to get you out of here.”

For a moment, Willie looked hopeful, but then his expression shifted again. He moved away completely, and shook his head, eyes suddenly unreadable as he stood, half facing the wall. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said, and it was almost cold. A familiar feeling tugged at Alex’s mind, a hurt he knew all too well, because they’d both done this before. He knew what Willie was doing. 

So he got onto his feet and followed him, determined. “I looked for you,” he said, trying to catch the other’s gaze. “After we didn’t cross over… I spent two weeks looking for you.”

“I was here. I thought you were gone, so I just came back,” Willie replied, regret lacing his voice. His hand gripped at the fabric of his sleeve at the elbow, twisting it around his thumb. “And now I can’t leave.”    


Alex frowned, finally in a position where he could face the other. “Willie… Why can’t you leave?”

Willie exhaled, looking defeated. “Caleb knows I helped you. I think… He didn’t expect me to do that, back there. He thought he was doing a good job of scaring me out of it,” he huffed, bitterly. “Now I’m no use to him. More of a liability than a convenience. I thought he’d destroy me, but… He’s taken my freedom, instead.”

Alex thought back to the locked door, the dark room, the hunched figure - Willie’s tired eyes, the small gasp he’d heard as soon as he’d taken a step down the stairs. His throat felt dry when he spoke, when even fearing the sting of the answer, he had to ask: “How?” 

“Jolts,” Willie shrugged, dejectedly. “I try to poof, phase through walls, use my skateboard, and… it happens. Any ghost tricks, any… any ways to escape. Nothing works.”

Alex’s frown deepened. “What, so he’s just — imprisoned you here? This whole time?” 

“Basically… Yeah,” Willie said, then shook his head, eyes closed. Alex couldn’t get over how tired he looked. “He came back a couple of times, to speak to me, or let me help around the club, but… then it stopped. He’s been… strange. Word is he hasn’t been around for the bigger part of the past... two weeks, you said? No one really knows why. I mean, last time I managed to speak to someone, they were all struggling pretty hard to get ahold of him. I don’t know.”

Alex let out a breath, looking at Willie again. He was frustrated, at Caleb for all of this, at himself for not getting him out sooner. No wonder Willie had seemed disoriented, no wonder he looked more exhausted than anything else right now. “That’s… messed up. I’m sorry. I can’t believe you were locked in here this whole time, while I was out there just…” he sighed, shaking his head as if to refocus. “Anyway, look, I came to get you out, okay? Caleb’s here today, I’ve seen him, so we’ll have to be careful, but...” he gave Willie a small smile. “I got in here, right? Should be able to get out, too, even if we have to walk.”

“Caleb’s here?” Willie locked eyes with him for a split second, but the look wasn’t hopeful, wasn’t relieved, just stress, conflict. And then he turned away again, and Alex took a step towards him, pulled by the need to understand, and took his wrist gently, keeping him in place.

“Come on, Willie, I just want to help you — ”

“That’s exactly why you shouldn’t be here!” Willie whirled on him and it caught Alex by surprise, as he stumbled back a step. The other looked away and sighed, his breath stuttering as he pressed the side of his palm to his eyes where the water threatened to spill. When he spoke, his voice shook. “I know why Caleb didn’t destroy me. He’s keeping me as a backup plan. A hostage. Bait. For you, Alex. He must be expecting you, must have planned for this, even if by some miracle he doesn’t know you’re here yet. We can’t just… walk out. You have to leave.”

“Well then it worked!” The words burst out of him without much second thought, because none was needed. “He was right to expect me, because I’m not leaving you here alone. Not after two weeks, not—” he paused, his anger deflating, and as he held Willie’s gaze, the rest of his words came out softly. “Not after everything.”

Willie only stared at him for a moment, eyebrows furrowed, and there it was again, the conflict in his eyes, except this time there was a softer edge to it - a ‘what if’, Alex realised, a hope. When the skater spoke again, it was a quiet sound, almost like a sigh. “You really…”

Alex nodded, thinking he understood. “I do,” he said, and smiled this time. “Look, I… I know the risk. I knew the risk I was taking when I came, but I did, didn’t I? And I’m scared, too, of course I’m scared,” and he chuckled as he lifted a hand to show it was shaking, although he wasn’t quite sure himself why that was. “But I’m also here, okay? I won’t let you deal with this alone, not when we started it together.”

Willie was silent, but Alex could see him relax, bit by bit, his lips tilting up in a small, but decidedly there, smile. He took that as an invitation to continue, taking a step closer. “Willie, listen… What you said back there, outside the Orpheum?” And his smile grew a little nervous, his heart suddenly pounding, but he pressed on, gaze sincere, wanting Willie to know exactly how much he meant it. “It goes both ways. I’d do anything for you, too.”

Willie nodded, let out a wet chuckle and moved to wipe at his cheek again, where a tear had fallen. “Yeah… alright,” he said, and now as he looked up at Alex again he was really smiling, his eyes crinkling in that infectious way that the drummer had been missing for too long. “Thanks, hotdog. Let’s… Let’s get outta here.”

And Alex nodded, and took his hand, and as they went up the stairs, through the door and into the light, Willie squeezed it tight, but didn’t look back.


End file.
